Gurgaon: When Monday evening’s downpour struck Gurgaon, the city’s glass towers and manicured expressways crumbled into a swamp of gridlocks, stranded commuters, and survival tales. Online, #Jalgaon trended; on the ground, officegoers trudged through waist-deep water, laptop bags hoisted above their heads.
Soaked and Stranded
For Shivam, a corporate executive, the six-kilometre ride from Huda City Centre metro to his home turned into a Rs 600 ordeal in an e-rickshaw.
“It felt like a premium charge for a boat ride,” he quipped, soaked but resigned. “Every year they promise drainage upgrades, and every year the city collapses.”
Elsewhere, abandoned vehicles dotted the streets. Diviya Ananya’s husband left his bike near Sheetla Mata Mandir after the engine drowned. By nightfall, the two-wheeler was nearly underwater.
The Ride of Patience
But amid the chaos, compassion surfaced. Journalist Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj recalled her seven-hour ordeal from Preetampura metro to Sector 46. Her Rapido driver, 24-year-old Suraj Maurya, refused to abandon her.
“Suraj is an absolute gem,” she said. “He stayed calm throughout, never once losing patience.” When they finally reached her home at 2am, Suraj simply smiled and said: “Ma’am, pay whatever you wish.”
Sky-High Fares, Sky-High Stress
Others weren’t as lucky. “I waited three hours at Huda City Centre, even offering Rs 800 for an 8km ride,” said Shivangi Jha of Sector 10A. “One driver told me, ‘Auto doob jayega (the auto will drown).’ I had to call family to pick me up.”
One IT professional gave up after hours of waiting in Cyber City and relied on a delayed office car. For many, the stress lingered into Tuesday — with offices allowing work-from-home and schools shifting online.
Jugaad on Wheels
In a moment that residents joked was “peak Gurgaon,” a group of young professionals, tired of waiting for Uber, hired a mini-truck.
“Unlimited legroom and better suspension than my Ola,” one laughed, perched on a sack of cement.
Ghost Town Morning
By Tuesday, the aftermath was eerie. Usually gridlocked roads lay silent, schools and offices deserted. “It felt like a ghost town,” said a Sector 54 resident. “Just the pitter-patter of rain and the occasional splash of a passing car.”
A City of Contrasts
The night revealed the city’s extremes: opportunistic fares, abandoned hopes, and flashes of human kindness. Gurgaon’s monsoon saga is a familiar one, but each season rewrites the script with new villains, new heroes, and the same reminder — when it rains, it doesn’t just pour; it exposes the city’s fragile foundations.
